Tinklebells

Even though Tracey has already started the Christmas shopping, as a rainy day exercise she encouraged our kids to write out their Christmas lists for Santa this weekend.

Miss7’s was super cute, with ‘a good day laughing with my family’ coming it at number four. I hope she gets that one.

Unlike another item she’s sure to add to her list tomorrow morning.

“Where you going?” Tracey asked me as I stood and walked towards the front of the bus.

As if she didn’t know.

I sighed, because I knew what was coming next. I was about to get company.

“Just need to pee,” I told her.

“Oh, good,” she said, predictably. “I’ll come with you.”

The unpredictable bit was Miss14, Miss10 and Miss7 each crawling out of their respective cubicle spaces to join us on the trek.

You might be wondering why I wasn’t thrilled to be part of an entourage. That would be on account of the weather. The rain didn’t really hit us here at Rosebud as heavily as it did in other parts of Victoria, but it was still windy, wet and wonderfully miserable, meaning at night there were muddy puddle ‘landmines’ scattered everywhere to ensnare unsuspecting camper’s thonged feet.

To avoid them, I’d come up with a rather manly plan which I was keen to try out and which would now have to be put on hold.

“I’m disappointed you girls aren’t asleep yet,” Tracey told the kids as they found their footwear and jackets and we exited the bus. It was, after all, 10:30 and they’d been tucked into bed since nine.

“Really? Why?” Miss14 wanted to know as by the light of my headlight – because I’m the only person who thought to bring one – we weaved our way between puddles, exposed roots and the odd downed tree branches. We moved the bus to a more sheltered spot before the weekend which, unfortunately, happened to be about three times as far to the toilet block. Also unfortunate is how Tracey used to toilet train the kids by turning on the tap so every time it rains they all need to go pee pee.

“Because,” I went on as I splashed through a puddle because I was directing the light in front of the girls, “I’d planned on peeing in front of the bus.”

“Dad!” exclaimed Miss10 and Miss7.

Miss14 just shot me an expression which quite clearly said, ‘Boys are disgusting.’

“He’s only joking,” Tracey told them.

“If you say so,” I said doubtfully.

“You’re so lucky you can do that,” Tracey whispered to me, giggling. “Maybe we should buy us girls shewees.”

Miss7’s head popped into the gap between us. “What’s a shewee?” she wanted to know.

“I know,” I heard rather than saw Miss14 grin. “It’s so a girl can pee standing up. It’s sort of a funnel and you pee into it an-”

“YUCK!” Miss10 exclaimed. “You’re joking, right? Why would you want to do that?”

“So you can pee behind trees,” said Miss14.

“And write your name in the sand,” I offered helpfully. “Boys do it all the time. It’s why we shorten our names from Benjamin to Ben.”

“What’s Bruce short for?”

“Dumb,” said Tracey.

“It sounds like fun!” Miss7 said eagerly. “Can I ask Santa for one?”

“Of course!” I exclaimed.

This was hilarious because this was my wife’s fault.

“One?” said Miss10. “You’ll need more than one.”

“Will I?” asked Miss7. “Why?”

“Because they’re disposable, aren’t they?” Miss10 explained. “I mean, our sink is usually full. It’s not like we’d use them and then take them inside the bus and wash them over our cups?”

“She’s right,”

“It’s okay,” Tracey whispered to me. “I know Santa. There is no way that’s happening.”

Judging by the smirk on my wife’s face, I suspect Santa’s workshop is going to be all out of female outdoor urination devices this year.

Shame, because I’m pretty sure a sheewee would guarantee a good day of laughs for the whole family come Christmas.